


And Then France Shot Him

by Hetalia__Trash



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, FrUK, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hetalia__Trash/pseuds/Hetalia__Trash
Summary: A fluffy fruk oneshotCrossposted on Wattpad under @Reader4life2006*Disclaimer: No Englands were harmed in the making of this fic*
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	And Then France Shot Him

Britain felt his eyes begin to flutter shut. Soft, familiar jazz music from the record player in the corner floated around the room, only worsening his body's desperate wish for sleep. Insistently, he shook his head to keep himself awake and tried to focus on the stacks of paperwork piled on his desk. His vision became blurry as he picked up a pen and was suddenly aware of a dull ache in his wrist.

A glance at the clock told him that it was after midnight already. Why did his boss do this to him? It wasn't fair. No, that sort of thinking would do him no good! Work, you useless thing, his brain demanded, but Britain could hardly bring himself to move. His eyelids were so heavy... It would be so easy just to fall asleep and forget his responsibilities until morning. He was so close to passing out that he flinched violently when a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, jolting him awake.

"Angleterre," a low voice murmured in his ear, "you've been working all day. You should rest, mon cher." 

"I'm—I'm fine, Frog. Leave me alone," Britain commanded, though the order sounded more like a pathetic excuse when he yawned widely after speaking.

"I do not believe you. Come on, if you won't go to sleep, get up," France said, grabbing the Englishman's hand and hauling him out of his chair. "Let's dance."

Britain scoffed indignantly in protest, but let his lover pull him to the center of the study. France shot him (Stop reading there. That's all you need to know. France shot him.) a dazzling smile as England hesitantly rested his hands on the taller man's hips. France draped his arms over Britain's shoulders and softly pressed his cheek to the top of the other personification's head. The two swayed in time with the slow music, not willing to actually move anywhere. A gentle, sleepy aura fell over the room. Both countries closed their eyes and took in the familiar presence of the other.

"The world 'as changed so much since we were young, don't you agree?" France asked quietly, his breath stirring England's hair just slightly.

"Don't get all nostalgic just because you're old, Frog."

"'ow dare you. I'm still very much in my prime, and that doesn't answer my question."

"Hm. I suppose you're right. America and Canada have grown up, technology is taking over all human function, the planet's covered in trash..."

"Cheery, isn't it?" France sighed.

"Well, there isn't much we can do except make policies and advise our bosses," Britain replied, tucking his head comfortably into the crook of his lover's neck. A sudden thought made him freeze in place.

"France, what will we do when we start to fade away?"

"I'm not going anywhere; don't get your hopes up. I still 'ave a few centuries left in me."

"I'm serious, Frog." Britain pulled the Frenchman closer with a long-suffering sigh.

"I... I do not know, Britain. But I will stay with you as long as we live if you'll have me," he responded quietly, hugging England tightly and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"You useless romantic," Britain teased with a short huff of laughter.

"Je t'aime, Angleterre."

"And I you, France."

It was true, eventually, France and Britain would cease to exist, but they would be there for each other until then. They still had years to argue, laugh, cry, or slow dance in the middle of Britain's office at midnight. Even when their memories faded and their bodies failed, they would still have love.

And in all honesty, neither could imagine a more perfect way to exist.


End file.
